TIS THE SEASON

by SANDEFUR

The merry season isn't always so ho-ho-ho.

1. Chapter 1

TIS THE SEASON

by

SANDEFUR

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction just for fun. I have no claims.

CHRISTMAS EVE… (12-24-07/Monday)

The sex was freakin' fantastic. Enhanced by his first experience with cocaine, just a little – he didn't want to become some sort of addict, Donald Baker's first 'three-way' was a great success. Donald slips out of the bed, careful not to disturb the two girls who are peacefully sleeping. They aren't the most attractive females he has ever seen, but their youth and enthusiasm makes up for a lot. By God, they were barely legal! Donald smiles as he puts on a warm robe and slippers. He catches sight of himself in the nearby mirror and automatically touches the scar at the center of his chest...

Four years ago Donald, or Judge Baker as he is more formally known, was shot by a parolee he was about to send back to prison for violating the terms of his parole. Forty-nine at the time, only the top physical condition he had always kept himself in gave him the strength to endure long enough to be rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. He survived and was back in good health, but Donald was changed by his encounter with Robert Morrison, who was the one to die that fateful day back in '03. For the first time in his life, Judge Baker faced his own mortality.

Grabbing a cigar, Donald leaves the warm confines of the main cabin of his houseboat and steps outside. He shivers, but he expected the cold and doesn't plan to be outdoors for long. Lighting the cigar, Donald muses on the fact he can now cross off two more items from his 'bucket list'. In a way he owes Morrison his thanks for waking him up from the doldrums of his life. Of course Donald knew in that vague, intellectual acknowledgement sort of way that he was going to die some day, but until he was shot, the true reality of how little time we have to enjoy ourselves hadn't sunk home.

During his long recovery, Donald decided he would not go to the grave without really living his life, and now in his fifties, he knew he didn't have long to enjoy the truly…fun stuff. First order of business was to divorce his cold, distant wife of twenty years. Soul sucking harpy. Then came the list. One of those long, detailed lists of fantasy adventures and experiences that many of us indulge in with daydreams while trudging through our mundane existence. Well, no more daydreams for Donald Baker. He was going to live! Donald takes one more puff of his cigar and tosses it into the river. Time to wake the girls and try for round two. Thank God for Viagra.

Donald hears a splash. His cigar hitting the water? Ridiculous. Donald turns and stares out across the river. His houseboat is anchored near the shore in an isolated area, and at one a.m. you wouldn't expect anyone to be boating in such a remote spot… Out on the river a small speedboat drifts slowly with the current, and there are two people who can barely be seen from this distance. Protected by the shadows near the shore, Donald knows he cannot be observed, and he is glad. One of the occupants of the boat is a man wearing a ski mask, and the other one is a naked girl, even younger than the pair waiting for him inside. Donald stares, wondering what he should do. Even from here he can see the girl is shivering from the cold, and from terror. The man has a gun. Before Donald can say or do anything, the masked man forces the girl to bend over the side of the boat and he shoots her in the back of the head. The body goes over the side and Donald catches a glimpse of a chain wrapped around the girl's torso and a heavy weight attached to the chain. The body disappears into what Donald knows is the deepest part of the river, never to be found—or so the masked man assumes.

There is another small splash (Donald identifies it as an electric trolling motor going back into the water) and the boat silently accelerates downstream. Realizing he has been holding his breath, Donald gasps for air. A murder, committed right before his eyes, and he has two naked, stoned co-eds in his bed. He must contact the authorities, but there will have to be a delay while he arranges for less awkward circumstances to go with the invented story he will have to tell as to why he was on the river alone at this time of night. Maybe he was wrong. A mundane life is beginning to look very good to Donald Baker.

X X X X X

His large hands are rough and strong, but he can be gentle and skillfully coaxing as his caresses thrill her body. Joan feels an intense buildup of joyous energy that will soon be released. The immense strength of her lover is transferred into her body and she in turn gives back as good as she gets. The moment of ultimate pleasure is about to arrive for both…

Tap-tap-tap.

Joan gasps as her eyes open and the dream comes to an abrupt end. Oh crap, it really was just a dream. Another one of those deliciously tantalizing but ultimately frustrating dreams that have been coming to her with greater frequency of late. Joan muses on her dream, realizing that part of it was due to her still missing her late fiancé—the star of the dream, and part of it was her hot Girardi libido returning. Her body is reminding her that she is only twenty and not meant to mourn forever.

Tap-tap-tap.

Joan sighs, wishing he would go away, but she knows from experience her tutor-angel is relentless. Joan kicks off the warm covers and goes to the window. She shivers from the cold wind and notes there is a light snow drifting down to join the six inches from the snowfall of two days ago. Joan smiles at the sight of snowflakes clinging to her tutor's wings and wonders, since only she can see her 25 foot tall angel, can others see the snow clinging to him?

"I forgot to set my alarm. It will take a few minutes for me to get ready."

"Extra laps." The angel responds with attitude as he turns and walks toward the city park four blocks away where they normally train. Joan notices he does not leave footprints. Some day she will have to have explained to her the physics of how her angel can both be and not be solid.

As Joan dresses in long underwear and a jogging suit, she glances at the calendar and smiles. Except for Kevin, who could not get away from his work in California, the family is gathered together for the first time in months. Joan missed Luke, Grace and Annie so much, and they are not scheduled to return to Boston until after the first of the year. For the first time in a long time, Joan feels at peace…except for her dreams.

X X X X X

In Los Angeles, in the exclusive Brentwood neighborhood, in a beautiful Colonial style home, in the master bedroom, Dr. John Hunter is dreaming. It is no ordinary dream. Transition…

John opens his eyes and sees he is in a room (if 'room' is the correct term) that consists of white glass on all sides. There is no perspective, so the distant walls might be ten yards away or ten miles—assuming measured dimensions can actually exist in this spiritual dream world. It is not the first time John has visited such a sterile, blank existence, but usually 'Lord' is present. Sometimes God brings John here to show him something of importance that he needs to focus on. There is nothing to look at, but John does feel a tiny tug on his pajama leg.

John looks down and sees an adorable little blonde girl. He estimates the curly-haired toddler to be about 16 months old. She smiles up at him and John automatically smiles back.

"Hello, who are you?"

"I'm Annie." she replies in a tone of voice that has a 'duh' quality.

"Hi Annie. I'm Dr. Hunter."

Annie backs away. "Doctor…? No shots!"

"No Annie, I'm not that kind of doctor."

"Ohh." Annie says with a sigh of relief as she looks around. "Just us?"

"So it seems." John says as he kneels down to make communication easier. "Annie, do you know where we are?"

Annie nods. "This is where I come to play with my friend when I'm asleep."

John realizes that although Annie is very smart, she is speaking at a level far beyond her age. This is a form of spiritual conversation.

"Who is your friend, Annie?"

"Yah-Yah." Annie answers in the same 'duh' tone.

John smiles. "I know...Yah-Yah, but this doesn't seem like a very fun place to play."

"It is when Yah-Yah is here. He tells me stories, we play games and sometimes, he makes me things."

"What sort of things?"

"Anything I want, like a pink an' blue sunflower, polka dot zebras and...oh, once he made me a kangaroo!"

"There's nothing special about a kangaroo."

"This one had three tails and could jump higher than a tree, and when the baby came out of her pouch, it had wings. It flew all over the place." Annie says as she traces an erratic flight pattern in the air with her finger.

John chuckles. "That's amazing. Annie, I'm wondering...did Yah-Yah have a message for me?"

Annie pauses, thinking. "I forgot. Yah-Yah says you are a man of secrets. Do you want to play?"

"We don't have anything to play with."

Annie smiles and holds out her hands. A moment later a plastic bouncey-ball appears in her hands. It has the pattern of the earth painted on its' surface. Annie bounces the ball toward John who catches it.

"This is a nice ball, Annie. Did Yah-Yah say anything else?" John asks as he gently bounces the ball back.

Annie catches it and looks proud of her accomplishment. "Yah-Yah said you were to continue keeping all of the secrets you know...and the ones you learn."

"Is that all?" John asks as he catches the ball again and bounces it back.

Annie nods. She looks at the pattern on the ball and asks, "What's this?"

"That's what the world looks like. But if you don't know that, why did you make the ball look this way?"

"Cause it's really important for my Mama to see this right now... Oh, I have to go."

"Why so soon?"

"My aunt, E.T., is crying. She cries a lot, and it's waking me up."

Before John can ask anything else, Annie fades away. A moment later he is sleeping peacefully in his bed.

X X X X X

Helen Girardi enters the attic bedroom as quietly as she can. With Luke and Grace home and enjoying extended periods of 'alone time', making his old bedroom the nursery seemed a good idea. Helen sees there is no need for stealth as Annie is already rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Grandma, E.T. is crying...again!"

"I know Annie, and her name is Eleanor. I'll get to her as soon as I can." Helen says as she fumbles with the childproof lock on the gate that blocks the kids' access to the stairs. (How does this damn thing work?)

Annie leaves her small bed, goes to the gate and opens it for Helen. She then goes back to her bed and using a tiny step stool, climbs back under the covers. Helen shakes her head in wonder at her granddaughter while noting that Annie has figured out yet another 'childproof' item. She will have to mention this to Grace. (Maybe there is an even more complicated such lock on the market?) At least Eleanor is safe in her crib and only crying moderately (for her).

"She just needs changing." Helen comments as her daughter stops crying now that someone is here to attend to her needs. Very practiced, Helen quickly completes her task and gives the already sleeping Eleanor a light kiss on the head. Helen turns to her granddaughter and sees Annie is yawning. She tucks Annie in.

"Go back to sleep, Annie. It's a long time before you need to get up... Annie, you know you're only allowed one toy with you when you sleep. Do you want to keep your bunny or this ball?"

"Bun-nee."

Helen places the bouncey-ball with the globe pattern on the toy chest. Odd, she never noticed this before. Helen is about to wish Annie goodnight, but she sees the little girl has her eyes closed already. Helen exits, locking the gate behind her - for all the good it will do. As soon as her grandmother is gone, Annie looks up and frowns disapprovingly at the ball.

"Go away."

The ball that looks like the world ceases to exist.

X X X X X

"Oh God!" Grace suddenly gasps.

Luke, holding a watch in his hand, breathes a sigh of relief. He takes his trembling wife into his arms.

"Grace, are you okay? You were gone for a really long time. I was begining to worry."

Grace clings to her husband as she catches her breath. "That...was scary."

"Scary how? I thought there were no possible risks to you when you astral travel."

"Physically I was...no, that's not the right word. My...'being' was safe, but for awhile there I wasn't sure I was going to make it back."

"Then you did it? You made it all the way to Mars?"

Grace glares at Luke. "Thanks for the concern."

"Sorry. What went wrong?"

"Well, nothing. Not really. It went like all of my other trips, including the one I made to the moon last week. But this time, when it was time to come back, I realized I didn't know where Earth was. I looked up into a dark sky filled with stars and didn't have a clue. I have never felt such a moment of panic in my entire life."

"Is that why it took so long for you to return? You were trying to find your way home?"

Grace shakes her head. "No, the time was due to how long it took me to get there and back. How long was I out?"

"Over eight hours."

"Then it must have taken me at least four hours to get to Mars. That was a hell of a long trip just to look at something that resembles a child's tinker toy."

"Then you saw it?"

"The Mars rover? Yeah, I went right to it. Like I said, a long way to go to see something so ridiculous. After I saw it I looked around for a few minutes, but there's not much to see but rocks and sand. Then I decided to come back, and that's when it got scary. A least when I was on the moon I could look up and see the Earth."

"Then how did you get back?"

"I made myself calm down and think about what I was doing. In all of my trips, even though I see reference points as I travel, I don't need to use them to navigate. I can always trust the power God gave me to guide me back to my body. When I did that, I started home. You have no idea how relieved I was when I saw our big blue marble in the sky."

Grace and Luke exchange another long hug before she adds, "I am never doing that again."

"But Grace, think of the amazing possibilities. With a few simple calculations, I'll be able to figure your optimum speed. We can then calculate travel time to other destinations...like Venus! We know so much less about that planet compared to Mars. Potentially, you could actually stand on the surface of the sun!"

"And tell you what, that it's hot and bright? It's not like I can take scientific instruments with me. I can't even keep track of how much time goes by."

'But, you're wearing your watch."

"On my body. Geek, nothing physical goes with me when I travel."

"I hadn't considered that. Grace, when you astral travel, are you naked?"

"Don't get pervy. I always wear this white flowing gown. It's hard to describe, but it covers everything but my hands and head. I guess God knows I have body issues, and that I would be uncomfortable travelling around naked, even though no one can see me."

"What does this gown feel like?"

"I can't 'feel' anything in astral form. I'm only an observer. Luke, I really think we should shut down these experiments of yours."

"But we can learn so much. Think of it Grace, you're the first person ever to walk on Mars."

"No I'm not. It isn't like some future astronaut is going to to see my footprints in the sand because physically I wasn't there. But suppose I did see something that was an amazing scientific breakthrough, what could you do about it? You couldn't publish the findings because everyone would want to know how we made the discovery. Then what would you say?"

"Yeah...that would be awkward. The most I could do is offer an unsubstantiated supposition."

"Besides, this experimenting thing has always felt wrong to me. Scripture says you're not suppose to test God, and that's what this feels like. I was given this amazing gift, but it's not just for my amusement. I'm suppose to be on call when God needs me to witness something. What if I was suppose to witness an important event during this night, or during my trip to the moon last week and I wasn't even on the planet? I'm sorry Luke, I know you're all excited about the possibilities but no more. Okay...?"

Luke sighs and reluctantly nods. "Alright Grace, I'll try to restrain myself from suggesting any more experiments - even though I have tons of new ideas."

Grace smiles. "Well, let me console you with a very old but always popular idea..."

Grace kisses her husband while letting her hands roam freely...

X X X X X

Sex. Joan finds she can't get the idea off of her mind as she runs laps around mid-town park. Fortunately all of the jogging trails have been cleared of snow, and no more flakes are falling. Joan's tutor is going on and on about some incredibly boring topic that is way over her head. Not demons this time, but some nonsense about regional spirits and how they can shape the attitudes of communities. Why does she have to know this stuff? It's not like she can do anything about it at her level. Like, Arcadia has a spirit of corruption. Well duh, no surprise there.

Joan resumes thinking about sex. Okay, honest acknowledgement time. As much as I miss Jimmy, I can't spend the rest of my life celibate and alone. I haven't had a regular boyfriend since...before I started college, and I miss having a guy in my life. And not just for sex, although... Joan sighs as she considers the possibilities. I'm not so hard up I'm willing to jump the first guy I can, but if I don't get started on finding someone soon, I may lose control and do just that.

Joan thinks about where she might meet someone. Plenty of cute guys at the college, and some of them seemed very nice. Problem is, all of the cute/nice ones are taken, which makes sense. Really cute, really nice guys remain on the market for like a nanosecond. Of course there are plenty of guys who are cute but not so nice, or toadish but as nice as can be. No big appeal there. And then there are the players who specialize in seducing one woman after another. Surprisingly, while she has been in mourning, those horndogs have been pursuing her more than ever before in her life. Somber clothing, no make-up and a down attitude seems to make them think she has low self-esteem. A real red flag for those...bulls. But if she gets really desperate... No. It doesn't matter how lonely and frustrated she might get, she is who she is - complete with Catholic family values.

Then it has to be a real relationship, but who? It's not like she has ever been wildly successful with guys as witnessed by her failed relationships with Adam Rove and Dylan Hunter. How will she ever find some unnoticed diamond-in-the-rough who could be a potential great boyfriend and...(sigh) lover. Diamond in the rough...? Joan smiles as she remembers Spencer Reid, the brillant young F.B.I. profiler she met last Halloween. He was so nice to her, and kinda cute...for a geek. He seemed to like her and they shared a single kiss which was more than okay (marred only by the weeks of guilt that followed). But it has been nearly two months. Maybe he has already found someone else? Another smile. No, Spencer was definitely not a player, and he really did seem to be into her. If she gave him a call...?

Joan stops, her path blocked by her tutor.

"Center of the park. Combat practice." he says before striding away.

Joan follows, wondering what crawled up her tutor's butt. He has been in such a mood lately. Joan arrives at the park's center - a brick circle about twenty feet across. Kids have been busy building snowmen around the circle. Her tutor stands on the south side of the circle and barks commands at her...

"The snowmen around this circle represent attacking enemies. The one to the north is armed with a knife. The pair to the east and west are unarmed but moving in to restrain you before the armed one closes in to gut you. Your response?"

"Attack the strongest of the pair closing in."

"To the east."

Joan moves swiftly with well practiced motions. A few quick steps followed by a spin-kick takes off the head of the first snowman...

"By now the one to the west would be much closer." Joan comments as she rapidly charges the snowman to the west and repeats the spin-kick attack. Another snowman's head goes flying.

"And now the knifeman will be hesitating because he has seen what an awesome fighter I am. I charge..."

Suddenly Joan feels a sharp blow to her backside and she goes flying through the air. She lands in the snow at the edge of the circle and sliding, sliding she comes to a stop by bumping into the north snowman. Joan lifts her head and spits snow out of her mouth. Slowly, and with a wince of pain, she stands - brushing snow from her face and clothes. Angrily, she stares at her tutor.

"You kicked me!"

"Actually, I flicked you with my finger. If I had kicked you Joan, you would have cleared the trees."

"The point is, you hit me. You've never done that before. Why now?"

"Since you seemed determined to be distracted, even to the point of forgetting every lesson I've taught you, a reprimand seemed in order."

"What did I forget?"

"What is the first thing you do when entering combat?"

"Assess the situation, physically and spiritually."

Her tutor steps aside. Behind him is a fourth snowman.

"That's not fair. You blocked my view, and I can't get a 'read' on a snowman!"

"If your gifts were still developing, you would not have been caught off guard by my actions."

Joan sighs, climbs up on a nearby park bench and stands there arms akimbo. Her tutor kneels on the ground in front of her. He still towers above her, but the distance is not so extreme.

"Okay, I want to know why you've been so mean to me lately. Did I do something to tick you off?"

Her tutor pauses before replying, "Do you hear that sound?"

Joan listens carefully. "That car with its' tires spinning in the snow? What about it?"

"That's you, Joan. We train every day, but you have stopped making progress. You are content to remain as you are."

"Are you saying I'm not doing my job? Hey, two months ago I dispatched a death demon to hell."

"We both know you were lucky. I made no secret of the fact that when I was first assigned to tutor you, I was not impressed with this, 'Joan Girardi'. But to my surprise, you showed me a level of dedication and raw talent that went beyond the anticipated. You progressed rapidly in your abilities, and grudgingly I had to give you my respect. Of late, that has changed."

"I've...had a tough year."

"Agreed. But that does not excuse failing God."

"Fail...? I haven't heard any complaints."

"Nor will you. The Almighty, in His infinite wisdom and mercy, grants His servants free will. If you choose to be a slacker, He will reluctantly accept that disappointment regarding His plans for you."

"God's plans? Do you know what he has in store for my life?"

"No. That is for Him to know. But I have had thousands of years of experience with humans, training many of them just as I do with you, Joan. I have seen this pattern before. When God first appears in that person's life, he or she eagerly begins to serve and God rewards that by advancing them, just as He has done with you. But then life intrudes, and the chosen servants begin to wane in their enthusiasm. They reach a point where they think they have done enough, or they cease struggling to go higher in their relationship with God."

"And your response is to kick them around?"

To Joan's amazement, her tutor smiles. "No Joan, despite many temptations, today was unique in my experiences."

"Lucky me."

"Yes Joan, 'lucky you'. I wish you could see how much God has invested in you from the spiritual perspective. Although I do not know His plans, I know God does not plant and tend a garden without expecting a great harvest. There is something so very special about you in God's eyes, it makes me weep when I see you surrendering your fate to the mundane human existence."

"Is this because I was distracted about...sex?"

"Not entirely. It is a common, trivial distraction amongst your kind. But I know you are also concerned about serving two masters now that you are taking part time assignments from Issac Dunn of Homeland Security."

"Are you reading my mind?"

"No Joan, I 'read' you spiritually. On rare occasions, you have been able to do the same with me. If you were still advancing, still giving it all you can, those occasions would no longer be rare. You would have perceived my attack from...the rear."

Joan smiles. "An angelic pun?"

In response, the 25 foot tall angel stands - proclaiming this 'personal' time is at an end. "Think on what I have said, student. Expand your perception, expand your dedication. No one tends an unproductive garden forever."

With that he unfurls his six wings, giving Joan a rare glimpse of the many eyes on the inside of those wings, and he takes off straight up. Wind and snow swirl around Joan for a moment like a mini-tornado before all becomes still. Sighing, Joan walks away thinking about her tutor's words while gently rubbing her sore butt.

X X X X X

Nine-tenths of a mile away, on the rooftop of an old office building, a woman closely watches Joan through the telephoto lens of a digital camera. Did she get that? She hopes so but has her doubts. She and technology have never gotten along. To the casual observer this woman would seem quite ordinary, except for the circumstances of her current location and activity. She appears to be in her mid-fifties and is dressed in a very light coat. Most would wonder why she isn't shivering from the low tepmeratures, but as with all vampires, she enjoys the cold (great sleeping weather).

Pansy Schubert has been a vampire ever since New year's Eve night of 1899. On that night she had been on her way to join friends for a turn-of-the-century celebration when she encountered a rather perverse creature named Ramon, who was out for a 'celebration' of his own. Even by vampire standards Ramon was considered...odd, and that may be why he chose to turn Pansy. (Yes, she is aware of how odd her name sounds to modern ears.) A walking cliche of the tightly wound, spinster librarian, Pansy was the exact opposite of the kind of woman most male vampires would consider turning. But Ramon had unusual tastes...

Pansy smiles briefly as she always does when she remembers the fate of her despised 'sire' (accidentily killed by a child playing with matches, of all things). Since that time Pansy has had to deal with the bizarre fate that has been thrust upon her. Although many turned people quickly embrace the vampire lifestyle with enthusiasm, it was a complete horror to Pansy. Never able to bring herself to 'hunt', Pansy settled for low paying jobs at hospitals where very fresh corpses provided sustenance, or if necessary, the blood of those who were already dying in great pain. It was the least offensive assault to her values that Pansy could come up with and still survive, until technology provided a new way. With the advent of blood banks, survival became much easier, but at a great cost. It was strange how all of those Hollywood people never considered a vampire's need for money in their various movies and TV shows. Nearly all of the vamps Pansy has met over the years have held jobs, paid rent, went to the theater, shopped in stores, etcetera. You never saw that in a vampire movie.

Money is why Pansy finds herself trailing an odd young woman for the tenth day in a row. Her employer, an unusual human who calls himself 'General Smith', seemed completely unconcerned with her vampire status. In fact, that is why he hired her - but with the warning that she must never get too close to this, Joan Girardi. The General seemed convinced that 'Joan' would some how know what she is if Pansy ever got near the girl. So, for ten days Pansy has kept her distance while watching and waiting for the ill-defined something special that Smith was seeking to have recorded. The task requires Pansy to use these modern gadgets like digital cameras and parabolic microphones. (Truly, she hates technology. In her day typewriters were the new innovation - a poor excuse for letting penmanship decline. And computers! Trying to find a book in a large library was now a Herculean task compared to the simplicity of the old card catalogs...)

Pansy tries to get back the image she recorded earlier...(how does this damn thing work?). So far all she has been able to report to the General is that Joan is...strange. She occasionally engages in brief, odd conversations with strangers and every morning she exercises rigourously while talking to herself. There! She did get it. While Joan was attacking the snowmen (for whatever warped reason), she was suddenly lifted into the air and landed a dozen feet or so away from where she was standing. It definitely wasn't a sudden leap by the girl. You can clearly see this has come as a painful surprise. Pansy wonders what could have caused such a thing, but can not come up with an explanation. No matter. This definitely fits the General's instructions to record anything weird. Maybe it will be enough to earn her that promised bonus? With an astonishing leap of her own, Pansy jumps to the roof of the next building...

X X X X X

Kevin Girardi answers the knock at the door of the Venice Beach loft apartment he shares with his lady love, Barbara Greyson. Yawning hugely, he nods a greeting to Barbara's half-brother, Dylan Hunter.

"Kevin, I'm sorry. Did I wake you? I know it's early..."

"Nah, I'm up. I just don't resemble anything human until after I've had my morning coffee. Come on in, Barbara is still getting ready."

Kevin, leaning heavily on his cane (he has good days and bad), leads the way to the kitchen where he pours himself a huge mug of coffee and offers some to Dylan, who declines. After a few sips, Kevin 'ahhs' and smiles...

"Oh yeah, that's better. So, Dylan, you're driving Barbara to Malibu?"

"Yes, I'm her exit strategy from the crowd of family members on the Greyson side. I'm suppose to insist on an early departure to finish my Christmas shopping. This way Barbara hopes to avoid awkwardness when she leaves first."

"A little bit of Greyson family-time goes a long way?"

"Sadly, yes. I know she likes spending time with her dad and Hi's new wife, Debra..."

"And the baby?"

Dylan smiles. "Yes, she has definitely grown fond of her new half-sister. I just wish Barb had that much affection for her half-brothers."

"She likes you."

"The other ones."

Kevin shrugs. "It's hard for her. Barbara grew up with you, but she barely knows the other four. And, it doesn't help that her four ex-stepmothers will all be there too. I can understand why she wants an early exit from that social nightmare. Why do they all insist on gathering together on holidays like Christmas Eve?"

"That's Hi Greyson's idea. Can you imagine the logistics of trying to visit four ex-wives, each with a son of his, all on the same day? This way they gather for a big breakfast, exchange presents, spend a little 'quality' time together as a family and they're gone long before nightfall. That frees everyone up to have Christmas day however they wish."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense, but it sure stresses Barbara out."

"It's mostly the presence of the ex-wives. The 'Four Blonde Vultures' is what Barb calls them. I guess each one is trying to make sure their son gets as much time as possible with Hi, but Barbara thinks they're mostly interested in securing as much of Hi's estate as possible in case he dies any time soon. Not that this is likely. With his habit of marrying young women, Hiram Greyson keeps himself very fit."

Kevin cautiously looks over his shoulder before lowering his voice. "Speaking of marrying young women, guess who is going to propose to your sister tomorrow?"

Dylan tries to force a smile to his face. "Really. You guys are ready to make the big step?"

Kevin grins. "Oh yeah, I'm a hundred and ten percent sure Barbara is the one. I'm picking up the engagement ring later this morning. How's that for a Christmas present?"

"It sounds...awesome. Definitely a memorable Christmas. Uh, do you think Barbara will be...that is..."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Well, it's just that you are both so young and career oriented."

"You're younger than me and you proposed to Joan last summer..." (Kevin hesitates as he sees the painful wince that elicits from Dylan.) "Oh hey, I didn't mean to open an old wound. But...you sound like you think your sister might say no."

"I'm sure Barbara loves you, Kevin. I've never seen her so committed to a guy or so happy, but...yeah, I have to wonder how Barbara will react. You must know how she feels about marriage."

"Because of her real dad and his revolving door of marriages? Sure, I know that soured Barbara a bit on marriage, but she always speaks fondly of her days with her mom and your dad together as a family. One of the reasons I've waited as long as I have to propose is to give Barbara the chance to get use to the idea of us as a permanent couple. Trust me Dylan, I know your sister even better than you. Come tomorrow, I will be an engaged man."

"Then I wish you all the best, and I'll be proud to call you my brother-in-law."

X X X X X

Grace is finishing loading the dishwasher when she hears her sister-in-law entering from the back stairs...

"You sure took a long time in the shower."

Joan, moving a little slowly, replies, "I wanted to work the kinks out with the hot water."

"Are you sure you're okay after your fall in the snow?"

"Sure, although I'll have a big bruise on my butt to look forward to."

"Okay, more than I needed to know."

"Where is everyone?"

"Mama Girardi is delivering two different portraits to clients. Apparently Christmas is a big season for her. Brain Boy is paying a visit to a couple of his old nerd buddies from high school and your dad got a call from the office."

"On Christmas eve?"

Grace shrugs. "Maybe it was important. Maybe your dad just wants to get in a last bit of cop time before he resigns next week. Hey, Annie and E.T. are in the den. Annie wants to give you her morning hugs."

Joan smiles. "Favorite part of my day."

Joan leaves the kitchen and goes to the door leading to the den. She pauses at what she sees. Annie has a book in her hands (Joan recognizes it as 'The Cat In The Hat' from when she use to read it to Larry the Cat), and she is reading it aloud. The book rests on the netting of the playpen, and E.T. sits behind the netting listening to the story. Annie pauses to show the picture to her younger aunt...

"See E.T., there's the cat and there's his hat."

Joan slips back into the kitchen and whispers, "Grace, come here. You've got to see this."

Grace follows and Joan points out Annie reading. Joan whispers again, "Can you believe this?"

Grace whispers back, "You mean Annie reading? Yeah, she's been doing that for about two months now."

"She has? Did you guys teach her?"

"Not intentionally. Every night one of us would read Annie a bedtime story, and we would point at the words as we pronounced them. Soon Annie was reading along to favorite stories, which we thought was just a good memory on her part. But then on new stories she would be sounding out words she had never seen before and asking what they meant."

"This is amazing."

Grace smiles, pride on her face. "Well, she is a genius..."

Joan detects a hesitation in Grace's voice. "Problem?"

"Sometimes I worry...I'm not smart enough to be a good mom to a girl as smart as Annie."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Luke seems convinced that Annie will be even smarter than him. How can I keep up?"

"Grace, you're suppose to be Annie's mom, not her tutor. Your job is to guide her through life with love, values and good sense - which you have plenty of. Don't think Annie won't respect or treasure you because her I.Q. may be higher. Do you think Luke looks down on Mom and Dad because he's smarter than them?"

Grace smiles and gives Joan a quick hug. "You're right. Luke still turns to your folks for guidance in all sorts of ways. Thanks Joan."

The pair continue watching as Annie reads the story letter perfect, pausing occasionally to show E.T. the pictures. E.T. notices the two adults watching the scene and frowns. This intruder into her domain is capturing the attention and admiration that is rightfully hers. As Annie again rests the book against the netting of the playpen, E.T. suddenly pushes hard with both hands against the book, which hits Annie in the nose. Annie, startled and hurting, drops the book and begins to cry. Grace rushes to her daughter and picks her up...

"Shh, it's okay sweetie, you're not really hurt."

Annie sniffles a couple of times and stops crying. "Mama, E.T. hit me!"

"I saw, but Annie, she's just a baby. E.T. doesn't understand what she is doing. Come on, we'll go to the kitchen and get you a drink of water."

As Grace and Annie pass by, Joan goes into the den and retrieves the fallen book. She looks down at her baby sister and wonders...

X X X X X

The private marina on the Arcadia riverfront is only a short distance downstream from the public one, but the difference is like night and day. Will takes note of the many expensive boats docked at the facility, most of them quite large and luxurious. The houseboat of Judge Donald Baker is one of the best in town. Not far away from the houseboat, a somber faced team from the coroner's office is loading a body bag into a waiting van. Will signals for them to pause and the medical examiner unzips the bag. Will has to brace himself against the sad sight of the dead young girl...

"Has she been i.d.'d?" Will asks.

"Linda Alvarez, missing from her Marston home for a week. Poor kid, she would have been 13 tomorrow." the M.E. responds.

"Single gunshot to the back of the head. Seems consistent with the judge's statement."

"Considering how long the body was in that freezing water, it's a good thing we have the judge's word on the timing. Otherwise time of death would be very hard to acurately figure."

Will nods and the medical examiner rezips the bag and enters the van. It speeds away. The department's head detective, recently promoted Captain Toni Chadwick (formerly Williams), approaches.

"Sorry to call you out on a holiday, Will."

"I'm always available for something like this, but I am a little confused as to why the Arcadia Police are handling this case. Wasn't the body found downstream, out of our jurisdiction?"

"Yes, and the girl is from nearby Marston so the case could go to them or the sheriff's department. But the boat that was used in the murder was stolen from the public marina here in town. It was found abandoned several miles downstream with no fingerprints."

"Mixed jurisdiction, but we have the best facilities to handle the case - unless the feds decide to intrude?"

"I passed along the pertinent data to the F.B.I., but with the holiday it may take awhile to get a response."

"Alright, what do we have besides Judge Baker's statement..." (Will looks at the report in his hands.) "He was alone on the river in an isolated spot because he was trying to avoid people during the holiday season?"

"According to the judge since his divorce, and since he has no local family, he gets overwhelmed with invitations by people feeling sorry for him because he's alone. So, he isolates himself on his houseboat until Christmas is over."

"Bah humbug? And is that a hint of doubt I hear in your voice, Captain?"

Captain Chadwick hesitates. "He claims the crime took place around one a.m., but didn't report it until after three."

"You think he's lying about something? That Judge Baker was involved?"

"Lying, yes. Involved, no. His Honor has all the signs of someone who was recently enjoying a little nose candy, and judging by the scented candles, the rumpled bed, and the hastily but poorly hidden condoms and Viagra..."

"Judge Baker was celebrating the holidays with a little inappropriate sexual escapade. That's why he delayed informing us?"

"Officially the judge forgot his cell phone and the marine band radio on his houseboat malfunctioned. I checked - there is a loose wire. It would have taken Judge Baker at least ninety minutes to work his way back upstream to Arcadia in a slow moving houseboat. The rest of the time he accounts for by saying he was too scared to start his boat's engines until he was sure the killer was safely out of the area. Except for the delay, the judge's story doesn't harm our investigation, so I thought I would let it slide unchallenged. If that's okay?"

Will sighs. "I suppose it's the least I can do for a man whose car I smashed into a pole. Alright Captain, keep me informed of any progress, and try to get the feds to respond. After what happened in this town last Halloween, I want to be absolutely certain we don't have another serial killer on our hands."

"Oh God, I hope not."

"As do we all." Will says as he starts to walk away. "And oh, Merry Christmas."

X X X X X

The weather this Christmas Eve morning is not too bad in Malibu, and Dylan Hunter and his sister Barbara Greyson enjoy the brisk atmosphere as they walk along the beach. At the water's edge, wetsuit clad surfers, the real dedicated ones, enjoy their passionate pursuit.

"At least we got a great breakfast out of our trip here." Dylan comments.

"Oh yeah, you can always count on a great spread at Hi Greyson's house. You know that buffet was supplied by one of the local production companies?"

Dylan nods. Hiram 'Hi' Greyson may be the butt of a lot of jokes from the critics and Hollywood's elite, but his unchallenged reputation of being able to deliver projects on time and under budget make him a virtual god to the industry's networks and production companies. They never passed on an opportunity to kiss Hi's backside.

"So far so good?" Dylan ventures.

"If all I had to endure was a good meal this wouldn't be such an ordeal. I don't know how much longer I can stretch out this 'walking off breakfast' routine."

"You have the gift exchange to look forward to."

Barbara smiles. "Again, that's not so bad. It's what follows that's so hard to take. The way the Blonde Vultures jocky for position, trying to focus Dad solely on their particular little 'chick'... It makes a sick joke of what Dad is wanting for us - a sense of family. No wonder none of us get along."

"Barb..."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm no better than the rest. Just another hungry baby bird trying to get daddy's attention. How pathetic is that?"

"At least your motivation isn't money driven. And your other brothers legitimately deserve your dad's time. I just wish you could make the effort to get along with them. It doesn't seem right, speaking as a half-brother, that you are so estranged. They're family."

Barbara nods, looking sad. "I think if all of my ex-stepmothers weren't present, the rest of us could do better getting along. It's not like I have anything against the boys. I just don't know them that well."

"Then maybe this is your chance to get closer? If you make the effort, they will probably respond positively. And I know your dad would like it."

"Okay, I'll try. Dad has some new game he wants all of us to play. That might be a good start."

"Game?"

"His latest project. Dad figues it's time to get some of the big bucks available in producing, so he's going to have a game show he's created on the air starting sometime next month. We all get a preview by playing a home version. Won't-that-be-fun!"

"It might be if you drop that sarcastic attitude."

Barbara laughs and playfully punches Dylan in the arm. "Enough with the lecture. I promise to be good, as long as you remember to get me out of here as early as possible with your 'shopping'. Okay?"

"Okay. I only want you to enjoy being with your family."

"Since when are you so gung-ho on family life?"

"Since always. You and me, Mom and Dad..."

"Were better than the Brady Bunch on happy pills, but face it 'little' bro, we were the exception. If there's one thing Hi has taught me, it's that most families are a big steaming pile of..."

"Hey, language."

"That's Step-dad's line. Point is, it's unrealistic to think any family has a good chance at happiness."

"What about you and Kevin? Don't you see the two of you someday being...a family?"

Barbara snorts with laughter. "With what, a white picket fence, two point five kids and a dog? As if!"

"Never?"

"Well...maybe, someday. When are careers are established, and we grow tired of having fun and freedom, then we can think about stuff like that. But that's a long way off. Meanwhile, I better get back inside to keep the vultures from trashing me too much. Coming?"

Dylan hesitates as he notices one of the surfers slowly approaching. "In awhile. I want to walk on the beach a little longer."

Barbara gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Not too long. I need someone to watch my back."

Dylan waits until Barbara is back at the house before he turns to face 'Surfer-dude God'. Part of Dylan's charism is that he always recognizes God in whatever form he takes...

"Gnarly waves, Dude. Totally tubular. You should grab a board and enjoy."

"You realize your slang is years out of date?" Dylan asks while suppressing a smile.

"I know, but I have a fondness for old-timey speech patterns. One of these days I plan to bring back the word, nifty."

"Did you really want me to surf?"

"No, that was just me being 'in character'. I do have an assignment...but..."

"You're hesitating? Since when does God hesitate?"

"This assignment will be difficult, Dylan. It goes beyond your current level of training and will be quite a challenge. I want you to know that if you choose to abandon this assignment at any time, I will not hold it against you."

Dylan gulps and nods. "I'll do my best."

"You always do. Are you aware of the nearest 'Circuit City' location?"

"Uh yeah, it's in a mall a couple of miles from here."

"Go there and enter the store at precisely 10:58."

"And then?"

"Be alert for any sign of the enemy. Trust your instincts."

With that, Surfer-dude God walks away giving the backhand wave.

Dylan checks his watch and realizes he will have to hurry. No time to make excuses to Barbara. He will have to send her a text after he gets to the mall...

X X X X X

The Arcadia Mall is the largest in the region, and normally Joan enjoys her trips there, but not during the madhouse of Christmas Eve shopping. From every direction Joan finds herself being bumped and prodded by half the town, all desperate to find that last minute perfect gift. It has dawned on Joan that she has forgotten to buy a certain member of the family a gift for Christmas. Not that E.T. has any idea about the holiday, or will remember this occasion, but Joan has decided the 'little alien' deserves something she will like. As Joan heads for the toy store, her jaw drops as she recognizes a familiar and deeply missed friend...

"Adam? Oh-my-God, it's really you!"

Adam Rove turns and smiles broadly. Automatically the pair embraces. As the warm, affectionate hug continues, Joan remembers how good it feels to be in a guy's arms - especially these arms. She also recalls that the last time they were together in San Francisco, they had discussed the possibility of a friends-with-benefits arrangement. Maybe...?

"Adam, I thought you weren't going to make it back to town for Christmas."

"I got lucky, Joan. I picked up a couple of extra portrait commissions for the holiday, and a couple of other clients paid before the first of the month, so for the first time in a long while I got a little ahead money-wise. It's been such a long time since I've seen my Dad, so we made the last minute decision to come."

"We?"

"Hello Joan." says a voice from behind her.

Joan turns and sees Cindy Thomas, the crime reporter she met when she was in San Francisco last summer. Cindy goes to Adam's side, takes his arm and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Joan gives a little nod, acknowledging that Cindy is marking her 'territory'. Apparently, despite the nearly three year difference in their ages, the Adam/Cindy flirtation has advanced into a real relationship.

"Hello Cindy, nice to see you again. So, you accompanied Adam to Arcadia?"

Cindy politely smiles. "I don't have any family in the bay area, and I definitely wanted to spend Christmas with my boyfriend. I was so pleased to meet Mr. Rove and his fiancee."

"What's this?" Joan asks.

Adam replies, "Dad and Lillian have made it official. They're getting married."

"Adam, that's great. Uh, that is if there are no problems with you and Mrs. Figliola?"

"About Glynis? No, we've managed to put that behind us. Lillian is...more realistic about Glynis and the things she did. She and I are on good terms now. What about you, Joan? Are you...?"

"Getting on with my life? Yeah, I'm fine. Guys, it was great to see you again, but you know - last minute shopping."

"Us too." Adam says as they share a quick farewell hug.

As Adam and Cindy walk away, Joan sighs. She could clearly read the strong connection between the two. She was happy for Adam, but this little encounter reminded Joan that she really does need to get on with her life. Meanwhile, back to fighting the mall crowd...

X X X X X

As Dylan travels through the Westward Mall, trying his best not to shove, he keeps a careful eye on his watch. It is one of those accurate to a thousandth of a second kind, so he knows he will arrive on time. Nearing the entrance to the Circuit City store, Dylan stops short as he sees an unexpected sight. In a nearby window display of a sportings good store there is a mannequin dressed in camoflauge hunting gear, holding a shotgun and surrounded by a couple of phony hunting dogs and several fake ducks. Dylan's charism tells him that the mannequin is...God. Can God appear as a non-living object? Well, why not? Dylan watches the 'plastic' figure and for just a fraction of a second there is a wink of the eye. Dylan's memory is jogged and he moves to the entrance of the Circuit City. Timing it out perfectly, Dylan enters the store at exactly 10:58.

The moment Dylan enters the store, a bell begins ringing, lights flash and confetti drops from above. A moment later a portly man in his forties appears and begins shaking Dylan's hand...

"Congratulations sir, you are our thousandth customer on this last day of Christmas shopping and you have won our grand prize. I'm Harold Hayfield, store manager, and you are...?"

"Dylan Hunter."

"Well Dylan, we have our prize ready for you to enjoy. Karen...?"

A very pretty young woman approaches with a giant mock up of a Circuit City gift card for one thousand dollars. She hands Dylan the card and smiles as a photographer snaps pictures. After the photos are done, the giant card is taken away and a normal sized one is substituted.

"Well Dylan, I hope you enjoy your opportunity to purchase some of our many fine products. Was it the contest that brought you to our store?"

Dylan hesitates, thinking about his assignment. Obviously God expected more than for him to win a gift card he didn't really need. He has to search the store for any sign of the enemy...

"Actually, I was just out doing a little last minute shopping. This is my first visit to your fine store, Mr. Hayfield and I would love a chance to look it over thoroughly. Perhaps with a lovely escort?" Dylan says with a sly wink.

Hayfield winks back, getting the idea. "Of course, happy to oblige. Karen, will you show our lucky winner around and see to his every need?"

Karen nods enthusiastically. She can't take her eyes off of the most...beautiful young man she has ever seen. "It would be my pleasure. This way, sir?"

Dylan holds out his arm and Karen takes it. They stroll away and Karen begins showing Dylan around the large store. Although trying to stay focused on his assignment, Dylan has to acknowledge an attraction to this beautiful girl with the stunning figure. Since being refused by Joan in his proposal of marriage last summer, Dylan has been leading a dull, celibate life - a type of mourning for his lost love. Now, hormones are reminding him that it has been a very long time since he has enjoyed any female company...

"So, Karen 'C', what does the 'C' stand for?" Dylan asks, pointing at Karen's nametag.

"Casper. You know, like the friendly ghost."

"And are you friendly?" Dylan asks with a smile that nearly causes Karen's knees to buckle.

"I can be." Karen says with a smile of her own. "What about you, Dylan? I'll bet you're an actor. Or maybe a male model?"

Dylan laughs. "No, just a lowly college student. I'm studying pre-med at U.C.L.A."

"Hey, me too. Well, not pre-med but accounting. At least I am for the moment..."

"Problems?"

"Like everyone else, money. I have a scholarship and some student loans, but I was also getting a lot of support from my Dad. We had to move around the country while he looked for work, and he finally got a good job here in L.A. But, he injured his back and will be on medical leave for a fairly long time. His pay while being off is a fraction of what he normally makes, so we're barely making ends meet. I picked up a seasonal job here to supplement our income."

"And do you make a commission on sales?"

"Sure, but I wasn't hinting..."

"I have to spend this card on something, and I was thinking it was time my Dad went from desktops only to his own laptop. And, he can upgrade to this new 'Vista' system. Let's take a look at computers..."

X X X X X

In the toy store, Joan is just finishing her purchase of a small bouncy-ball for E.T. The surface is highly reflective, and Joan knows her baby sister will enjoy staring at herself in the ball. As she reaches the store's exit, Joan literally bumps into another old friend...

"Sorry...hey, Freidman!"

"Joan, happy holidays."

"You too." Joan says as a quick hug is shared.

"Joan, do you remember my youngest brother, Nathan?"

Joan smiles as she looks at the younger brother and sees what her friend must have looked like at that age. "Uh yeah, we met at your brother David's bar mitzvah party."

Nathan smiles as his eyes focus on Joan's breasts. "Yeah, I remember...you. I'll be having my own bar mitzvah soon since I turn 13 tomorrow."

"Your birthday is on Christmas day? That sucks."

"It's not such a big deal when you're Jewish."

"Oh, right." Joan says with a slight blush.

"You know, when a Jewish boy turns 13, he's considered a man." Nathan adds while still staring at Joan and begining to sweat.

Friedman smacks his little brother in the back of the head. "Behave yourself. How have you been, Joan?"

Joan sighs at the usual question. "Getting on with my life - really. By the way, thanks for signing me up for 'Vocals', it was my favorite class this past semester."

Friedman chuckles. "I thought you would get a kick out of it, O' Queen of the Zombies."

They share a brief laugh as they remember with fondness their old high school musical. At that moment Dillon Samuels appears carrying several shopping bags filled with gifts. She sees Joan and her boyfriend laughing in such a friendly way and automatically takes "Theodore's" arm and gives him a kiss on the cheek...

"Hello Joan, Merry Christmas."

"Hey Dillon, right back atcha." Joan responds as she notes the :"He's mine!" action. Is she sending out some sort of predator vibe that's making other women nervous?

"Theodore, sweetie, I hate to rush you, but I still have more shopping to do."

"More...? I mean, sure Dillon. See ya, Joan."

They all wave farewell and just before they are out of earshot, Joan hears Friedman reprimand his kid brother..."What have I told you about staring at women like that? It's creepy!"

Joan smiles as she concedes at least she can stir the passion of a young geek. And thinking of geeks... Joan looks through her phone's info and finds Spencer Reid's number. Should she? Joan sighs, never having called a guy for a date before. Well, don't approach it that way. Just a friendly call to wish him a Merry Christmas, and if the topic of conversation should happen to drift toward New Year's Eve and the lack of dates for both and how easy that would be to mutually solve... Joan stares at her phone debating if she can do this. She stares down demons on a regular basis, but this is hard...? Yes, very hard.

X X X X X

Dylan and Karen sit side-by-side as they stare at a monitor that shows the store's entrance. On the screen a number count automatically advances as each new customer enters.

"So this is how you knew I was number one thousand?"

"Yes, it's a special system that was set up for the contest only."

"It's not a part of the other monitors?" Dylan asks as he points at a dozen similar monitors that cover the rest of the store.

"Those are actually controlled by mall security. This special one is the only one we have control over."

"Control? Like, you could run it back and show all of the people who came in today?" Dylan asks, feeling a bit desperate. He has been over every inch of the store and could find no sign of the enemy or his activities.

"Sure." Karen says as she resets the time stamp and the image changes to the start of business that day. "As you can see, we were very busy from the first moment the doors opened."

The day's shoppers go by at a fast forward pace, the customer numbers flashing so fast they can barely be discerned.

"There, stop!"

Karen freezes the frame.

"Go back a few images."

Karen slowly reverses the monitor and she doesn't need to be told on which image to stop...

"Whoa, creepy." she comments.

The image on the screen is of a...lunatic. It is the only way to describe the guy. Unshaven, with a scar and dark glasses, his face is distorted with hate. He has a hood pulled up over his head and the man has his hand raised to block his image from the camera. Anyone seeing this guy would automatically feel nervous and back away. Dylan notes the number on the monitor identifying the guy as customer number six-six-six...

Before Dylan can speak, the P.A. system blares out... "Attention all mall employees. Code twenty one. Repeat, code twenty one."

"What's that?" Dylan asks.

"Code twenty one, an Amber alert. There's a child missing."

X X X X X

On a warm blanket in the nursery, Annie is trying to live up to her Mama's instruction to get along with E.T. She has read her aunt a couple of stories, and while E.T. seemed interested in Annie's ability to read, the stories themselves were a bore to her. It is almost like she has no interest in anyone or anything other than herself. Annie has tried a version of her old pointing game, with E.T. being the pointer, but her aunt only seems to care for looking at herself in the nearly endless number of reflective toys she owns. Maybe if she shared her own favorite toy...?

Annie goes to the bed and retrieves her constant bedtime companion. "See E.T., this is Bun-nee. Bun-nee is my friend, even though he's not real. Would you like to hold him?"

Annie hands over the stuffed bunny and to her surprise, E.T. latches onto the toy with great enthusiasm. The baby coos with happiness as she rocks back and forth while clutching the stuffed toy. Annie smiles, glad to have found some common ground with her aunt.

"He's soft and warm. I always sleep with Bun-nee. I'm glad you like him too."

E.T. sticks one of the bunny's ears into her mouth and begins to slobber on it. Annie frowns, not liking this but she remains determined to get along with her aunt for her Mama's sake.

"Does he...taste good?" Annie asks, thinking this a strange thing to do to Bun-nee's ears.

Next, E.T. begins bopping the stuffed bunny's head onto the floor. She sees Annie's annoyance at this and laughs.

"Stop, you'll hurt Bun-nee..." Annie begins but then pauses. No, Bun-nee is not real. He can't be hurt, but still, this has to stop.

"Okay, time to give Bun-nee back."

Annie tries to take her toy back, but E.T. clings stubbornly to the bunny. Annie is stronger and manages to pull the toy away, but immediately E.T. begins crying very loudly. The crying continues and soon Helen and Grace are rushing up the stairs to see what is wrong. They pause at the childproof gate, taking several moments to figure out how to open the annoying lock.

"What's going on?" Grace asks.

Annie replies, "I let E.T. play with Bun-nee and she was mean to him, so I took him back."

Helen has taken her daughter into her arms and Eleanor gives her mother the saddest face she has ever seen on her child. E.T. points at the bunny and wails in misery.

"Annie...did you hurt Eleanor?" Helen asks.

"NO!"

"Indoor voice." Grace says.

"Sorry. I just took back Bun-nee."

E.T. continues to cry, getting even louder as her face goes red and she desperately points toward the stuffed bunny. Helen tries to console her daughter, even using one of the mirrors that normally calm her down, but it does no good. Eleanor continues to squirm and reach toward the bunny as if her life depended on it. Grace can see the misery on Helen's face as she tries to think of a way to calm her child. Grace sighs, knowing what she must do.

"Annie, let E.T. have your bunny."

Annie backs away, horrified. "No, Bun-nee is mine!"

"Annie please, do this for Mama. Just for now?"

Annie hesitates. There is nothing she would not do to make her Mama happy, but she sees how it is. Once Bun-nee is in E.T.'s hands, she will never get him back. With a couple of tears running down her cheeks, Annie reluctantly hands over Bun-nee to her Mama. Grace hands the toy to Helen and instantly E.T. calms as the toy is placed in her eager arms.

"Thank you Grace. Thank you Annie." Helen says with relief and more than a little guilt.

Grace picks up Annie. "Come on kiddo, let's get you some chocolate ice cream."

"With cherries?"

"With cherries and whipped cream."

Annie clings to her mother as they go down the stairs. She sees Grandma placing E.T. in her crib, still clutching her new toy. Moments later, Helen leaves the room. Once she is alone, E.T. kicks the stuffed toy aside. She cares nothing for the ridiculous thing, but she smiles at her victory over her rival. This will teach her foe that she can not invade her kingdom without consequences. Her servants are more powerful than those of her enemy...

X X X X X

At the Westward Mall crowds of people are slowly working their way toward the main exit. Police officers are checking everyone's i.d. and asking a couple of routine questions about whether anyone saw something suspicious. Those who think they have even the most trivial info are routed to the nearby mall security office. Everytime the door to that office opens, a distraught mother can be seen crying. Rumors are circulating all over the mall, and nearly all agree that the middle school aged boy who disappeared was taken to the mall for a shopping trip. Since the boy didn't want his mother to see what he was buying her for Christmas, they separated with the agreement to meet at the food court in one hour. When the boy didn't show, mall security was alerted. Eventually the police were called and an Amber alert issued. No one has been allowed to leave the mall without first being questioned by the police. Rumor says security cameras failed to detect the boy's kidnapping.

Standing in the line waiting to exit is Elaine Lishack and her daughter, Emily. Although Lishack faced some horrifying dangers in her younger days as a secret agent, that doesn't begin to compare to her greatest fear - that something like this could happen to her daughter. Everytime the security office door opens and closes, Lishack gets a glimpse of the unconsoleable mother and she hugs Emily tightly in response. Emily, not sure what all of the fuss is about, detects her mother's fear and clings tightly to her. Lishack noticed Dylan Hunter enter the security office earlier, but she made no effort to draw his attention. As much as she likes her former student, she only wants to get back to Dana Tuchman's house where she and Emily are staying during the holidays.

Inside the security office Lt. Provenza, a grey-haired detective who must be way beyond retirement age, gives Dylan a nod of dismissal. "Thank you Mr. Hunter, that will be all."

"But...what about the guy I pointed out?"

Provenza chuckles. "You and over a hundred other people noticed the same bad guy. Mall security was following him around all morning, watching his every move and expecting something crazy would occur since he was such an obviously dangerous nutjob. Turns out he is an actor named Keith Bryant who was practicing for a movie role where he would play a crazed lunatic."

"Then he had nothing to do with grabbing the missing child?"

"The one person we are certain is innocent is this Keith guy. Security obsessively never took their eyes off of him. Thanks again for trying to help."

Dylan takes the hint and leaves the security office, making room for the next 'helpful' person. Dylan walks through the mall feeling like an utter failure. A 12 year old boy was kidnapped practically under his nose and all he managed to do was send the cops off on a wild goose chase... Dylan suddenly remembers Mannequin God in the window display with the fake ducks...decoys! As Dylan passes the food court, he spots the actor Keith Bryant having a cup of coffee...

"Mr. Bryant?"

The actor sighs. "I'm not the guy. The police have cleared me."

Dylan sits opposite the actor and notes the transformation. The fake scar and dark glasses are gone as well as the scary 'tude. He now looks quite ordinary. "Yes, I heard about the mix up with the cops. I just wanted to congratulate you on your acting. It was an amazingly realistic performance, Mr. Bryant."

He smiles. "Really? Thanks, and call me Keith. I just hope Mr. Schwartz shares your opinion."

"Schwartz?"

"He's a casting director who is considering me for this movie role where I will play a crazed stalker. Mr. Schwartz wasn't sure I could look scary enough to be convincing, so he came up with this test."

"Keith, are you saying this Schwartz guy arranged for you to be at the mall this morning in this 'stalker' guise?"

"Of course. Mr. Schwartz said he would be watching from a distance and would judge my performance by how the crowd reacted to me. I guess I passed, but it's a terrible coincidence that some poor kid was snatched at the same time."

"Yes, a terrible...coincidence. Keith, where would I find this Mr. Schwartz?"

"I knew it! You're an actor too. Hey, if you're thinking of grabbing this part away from me..."

"I wouldn't dream of it, but I have been told by people that I should give acting a try. Tell you what, if you can direct me to Schwartz, I'll introduce you to this guy..." Dylan says as he shows a picture on his phone that was taken earlier in the day.

"Hi Greyson, the director? Deal!"

X X X X X

Joan sits in her bedroom staring at her phone. No matter how hard she tries, she can't bring herself to call Spencer. It isn't just because she is nervous about calling a guy to hint for a date. There is also the guilt she feels that is causing Joan to hesitate. It has only been five months since Jimmy Tubb's death and here she is thinking about guys, dating and...sex. The same as she would be doing if she had never met Jimmy. How can she be considering just moving on with her life as if nothing significant had occured? Shouldn't Jimmy's life have affected her more than this? If only she hadn't lost their baby...

But here she is, ready (?) to take the next step. The odd thing is, the one person being the most encouraging to Joan is Jimmy himself. Sitting here quietly, she can feel his love pouring out to her spirit. He truly wants her to fully enjoy her life, including dating (apparently there is no jealousy in heaven). Joan sighs and punches in Spencer Reid's number. Voice mail. Oh crap...

"Uh, hi Spencer. It's Joan...Girardi. I was thinking of you...fondly, that is. And, I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas or a happy holidays if you prefer. If you like, um, you can call me back? I'd love...uh, I'd enjoy hearing from you again. This is Joan...bye."

Joan disconnects and groans. God, that was so lame. How do guys do this?

X X X X X

Maggie Lincoln, personal assistant, is finishing up her work for the day when she hears the door to the office open. Without looking up she comments, "We're closing early, so try again on Wednesday..."

Maggie pauses as she glances at her visitor and gulps in hormonal response. He is young, around 20, handsome to the point of being beautiful and with the body of a Greek god. Maggie automatically checks her hair and smiles broadly. "Good afternoon, Mister...?"

"Dylan Hunter." he replies with a devastating smile.

Maggie is use to seeing handsome young men go through this office, but this guy is sparking wildly erotic thoughts within her. "Are you an actor, Mr. Hunter? I'd be glad to accept your resume and headshots."

"Actually, I was hoping to meet Mr. Anton Schwartz?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hunter..."

"Call me Dylan."

""Dylan..." she says with a sigh. "Sorry, but Mr. Schwartz didn't come in today. The holiday, ya know. I'd be glad to make an appointment for Wednesday if you like? I'm very sure the boss will want to meet you."

"And I look forward to meeting him. I thought since I'm just starting out in acting, I'd have a better chance with someone who was also new to the show biz industry." Dylan says, having called Hi Greyson on his way to this downtown office. Hi, who knows everyone in the 'biz', assured Dylan he has never heard of a casting director named Anton Schwartz.

"I promise to bring your name to his attention bright and early on the 26th. Do you have your photos with you?"

"Sorry, silly me, I forgot. I'm still so new to all of this. For instance, I've never even seen the office of a real life Hollywood casting director. I don't suppose...?"

"You'd like to look inside? Sorry, but even if I wanted to, the door has a security lock. You have to know which three numbers to punch in to gain access. Only Mr. Schwartz knows that."

Dylan smiles and moves closer. "And a clever, beautiful woman like yourself never noticed the number? Please, it would mean so much to me. I'd be ever so grateful in so many ways..."

Maggie gulps nervously in response to Dylan's close proximity. What exactly is he suggesting they will do behind the closed doors of the private office? Maggie isn't sure, and she knows she is risking her job, but for a chance to make-out with this guy... Quickly, Maggie punches in the three digit code. The door clicks open and they enter. Maggie wonders, should she put up a pretence of modesty or just drag this stud to the couch...?

"Kind of a bare place for a private office."

Maggie looks around and gasps in dismay. "What happened here?"

The office is furnished with good quality furniture, but that is all that is present. Maggie continues, "All of the photographs, a couple of paintings, his books and desktop computer - all gone! Were we robbed?"

"When was the last time you were in here?"

"Friday, just before Mr. Schwartz left for the holidays. He isn't suppose to be back until Wednesday."

"I wouldn't count on his return."

"What do you mean?"

"How long has Mr. Schwartz been in business?"

"About three months."

"I imagine his lease runs out at the end of the year. Show business is a tough racket to get started in, and it looks like your boss has cut his losses and run."

"Then...I'm out of a job? He owes me two weeks pay!"

"Sorry. Maybe he'll send it to you?"

"Yeah, right. Now if you will excuse me, I have some office equipment to steal."

Maggie exits and Dylan begins looking around. All of the drawers in the large desk and the couple of file cabinets are empty, and the place has the appearance of being 'wiped down'. Dylan wouldn't be surprised if all fingerprints are gone and even tiny traces of D.N.A. have been carefully removed. If the police figure out Anton Schwartz's role in today's kidnapping, they will have a very cold trail to follow. Dylan assumes 'Schwartz' is a fake name and today's kidnapping was set up long in advance. So what should he do? He's not a detective or a specialist in forensics. Would he even recognize a clue if he saw one?

Dylan pauses, seeing what indeed might be a clue. He gets down on all fours and examines something under the desk. A tiny amout of sand...beach sand. Great, big help there. How many miles of beaches are nearby? Still, it looks rather familiar. Dylan glances at the bottom of his sneakers and sees another tiny amount of beach sand clinging there. It seems identical to the sand left behind by Schwartz. Could it be, the man is hiding out in Malibu? If Dylan saw this on a TV detective show he would dismiss it as poor plotting, but when God is involved...are there any coincidences?

X X X X X

In a modest hotel room in Las Vegas, Spencer Reid sighs heavily with relief as he collapses onto the bed. It has been a long stressful day, but that was not unexpected when he came to visit his mother at the private sanitarium where she was committed due to schizophrenia. It sometimes runs in families, and that is the greatest fear in Spencer's life. Like him, his mother is also a genius, but that didn't keep her from subcuming to the mental illness. Finally able to relax, Spencer begins checking the long list of messages that have accumulated on his phone during the day. Mother didn't like him taking time away from her to answer calls, and as always, he did all he could to keep her calm.

A couple of text messages from Penelope Garcia, the B.A.U.'s computer tech specialist. Garcia would be home, but she kept a link on her personal computer to the mainframes at the Bureau. It was strictly against the rules, but Garcia came to them after working as a professional hacker. Her idea of the rules had a lot of grey area. Hmm, some hits on the data collection he was doing involving missing children and possible satanic cult involvement. Before meeting Joan Girardi, Spencer had dismissed the idea of satanic cults as mere urban legends. Some of the things she said on the subject motivated him to check more deepily into the possibility. A couple of reports from two different police departments fell within the parameters of what he was looking for.

L.A.P.D. reported a missing girl, age twelve, taken three days ago. Today, a twelve year old boy was snatched from a crowded mall. The common factor that linked them? Both of them turn 13 on Christmas day. Another report, this time from the police in Joan's hometown. The body of a girl, taken a week ago from a small town called Marston, pulled from the river after being murdered in front of a witness. The poor child had also been raped. Spencer Reid's stomach turns as he reads the details, including the much too odd of a coincidence that this girl, Linda Alvarez, also would have turned 13 on Christmas. What did it all mean? Spencer shudders at the thought of what could be happening to these children. Since joining the Behavorial Analysis Unit he has seen some truly horrifying crimes.

Spencer checks his voice mail and smiles at the charmingly disingenuous message left by Joan. He thinks of the alluring and lovely young woman he met a couple of months ago. True, there were a lot of odd things about her, including some ill-defined psychic ability and a very unpleasant connection to the infamous director of Homeland Security's covert operations division, Issac Dunn. Still, he couldn't deny his attraction to Joan and the way the memory of her comes to him so often in his dreams. Spencer dials Joan's number...

"Spencer?"

"You have caller i.d.? Or is that more of your 'psychic' abilities?"

"Purely technology. I guess you got my goofy message?"

"I was delighted to hear from you, and I thought it was charming. By the way, Merry Christmas to you too."

"Thanks. How are you spending your holidays? Chasing down bad guys?"

"Actually, I'm in Las Vegas."

"Oh Spencer, please tell me you're not one of those people who go to Vegas every Christmas and party like it's spring break?"

"Las Vegas is my hometown. I'm spending Christmas with my mother."

Joan chuckles. "Silly me, I forgot that ordinary people live and work there and it's not all casinos and wild fun."

"It is actually a fine community in which to live and raise children - says the voice of experience. So Joan, I was wondering, the last time we talked you said you needed more time before you would consider dating. Maybe...?"

"I...think it's time for me to try. You know, a get on with my life kind of thing."

"As I recall, I made an offer to go for coffee."

"Well, considering the distance between Arcadia and Quantico..."

"Something more than coffee?" Spencer asks with a big smile. "Did you have a suggestion?"

"Just to toss out an idea, if it's not too late and you have no firm plans..."

"New Year's Eve?"

"Uh, yeah. Look, I'd understand if this is too much for a first date."

"Are you kidding? If I were texting, I'd be sending you an L.W.J."

"L.W.J.?"

"Leaping With Joy. Fair warning, I am at best a mediocre dancer."

Joan laughs. "I can work with that. So, I'll give you some time to consider the details and we can talk again?"

"Definitely. And Joan, I'm really looking forward to this." Spencer says with another big smile on his face.

To her own surprise, Joan smiles and honestly replies, "Me too."

X X X X X

Shortly before midnight, God calls upon Grace. Her 'essence' rises from her sleeping body and she pauses to confirm that Luke is sleeping peacefully. She moves on to the nursery just long enough to see that Annie and E.T. are okay. Annie is sleeping while sucking her thumb - a new behavior for her (maybe due to the loss of Bun-nee?). E.T. appears to be having yet another of her bad dreams, and Annie's favorite toy has been kicked out of the crib. Grace decides she will get it back for her daughter before they leave for Boston, even if she has to sneak Bun-nee out of the Girardi house.

Grace moves on, being guided by God, and she feels relieved. It has been awhile since God has called on her and she worried that she and God were 'on the outs'. Grace rises a few hundred feet into the air and heads north. The trip is short and Grace recognizes the nearby bedroom community of Marston. Marston is all middle class and above, a haven from the crime and corruption of Arcadia. Those who can afford it gladly make the commute to jobs in the city. It is not the sort of place where you expect to find terrible crimes.

Grace comes to rest in front of a house where an informal shrine of candles and flowers has been errected at curbside. The name on the mailbox reads: Alvarez. Grace knows the name, the local news has been covering the story all day. One week ago Linda Alvarez was taken in the middle of the night from this home. Grace remembers the date very well. It was the night she was on the moon looking at old NASA junk for Luke.

Grace rises again and heads south. At the river she goes downstream and pauses in mid-air over an isolated part of the river. There is no marker this time, but Grace realizes this is where Linda Alvarez was murdered and dumped overboard - while she was on Mars. Before Grace can do anything, she turns again and this time goes upstream. She travels until she comes to Mercer Creek and then follows that until she comes to the lower levels of Mount Nashman. Grace, travelling above the forest, notes the many trails and rough mountain roads. There are a lot of isolated cabins in this area, and Grace hovers above one that is particularly far from all others.

Going through the thick log wall of the back of the cabin, Grace pauses in a tiny room. There is a closed door and no windows - no source of heat either. A cot is the only furniture, and a large metal ring affixed to the wall still holds the chains that must have secured the Alvarez girl in this sad, cold place. The pathetic stain in the center of the cot tells the rest of this horrible story. Grace desperately wishes she could cry, but she cannot in this form. She does hear voices coming from the other side of the door and travels into the main room of the cabin.

Two men are sitting across from each other at a table, and a small black bag is between them. A cheery fire burns in the fireplace, but one of the men still has on his jacket, gloves and hat. The men speak in low, serious tones. The visitor has a Germanic accent...

"You were suppose to call on me. I am in charge of disposal." says The Disposer.

"I know, but I panicked. I've never gotten a call from the Chairman himself. When he said they knew what I did..."

"What did you expect? After all of these years, it really came as a surprise to you that your activities were being monitored?"

"It did. I thought I was trusted."

"None of us are fully trusted, and your actions prove the wisdom of that. You know the rules. It has to be a child who turns 13 on Christmas day, and...a virgin! Why do you think you are paid so much to procure for the council? So you can sully the merchandise with your filthy touch?"

The Procurer whines, "I didn't see what difference it made. The girl was going to die anyway, so why let the opportunity go to waste?"

"Why? Because the council says so. If you need a better reason than that, then you should consider a career change."

"No, no - of course not. Just how much trouble am I in?"

"That depends on whether or not the police are on your trail."

"I wore a mask and gloves."

"And can you guarantee not a scrap of your D.N.A. was left behind in the boat?"

"I made sure to steal one of the boats used for public rentals. There will be D.N.A. from dozens, maybe hundreds of people. Even if mine is found, I can always claim I was once a guest on the boat."

The Disposer nods. "Not bad. That leaves the clothes you wore and the gun."

"In the bag as you requested."

The Disposer looks in the bag. "Okay, this situation may be salvageable. The bag will go to the bottom of Lake Nashman, which is closeby and very deep. In the meantime, the council is angrily demanding that it be supplied with the promised merchandise before the ritual tomorrow night."

Detecting the exasperation in his colleague's voice The Procurer asks, "Is there something else going on?"

"It's turning into a difficult season. A somewhat similar situation has occured with the west coast council."

"Their procurer messed around with one of the kids too?"

"No. The girl was no longer a virgin all on her own." (He tsks.) "Twelve years old! What is the world coming to? Anyway, their procurer had to go with the backup target."

"Do we have a backup?"

"Of course. We plan for all contingencies. If you want to keep your job, you will secure the next target before sunrise and with no more complications. Needless to say, you will not be paid for this snatch." The Disposer says as he hands over a file folder.

The Procurer examines the file. "A boy?"

"I know, girls are preferred, but there is a limited number of kids turning 13 on Christmas day. And trust me, this weird looking kid is definitely a virgin. Can you handle this, because I put my own neck on the line vouching for you."

"Absolutely. I won't let you down. I have to admit, I've been really scared. When I got caught doing...'that', I thought the council might order me killed. I swear, I've learned my lesson."

"Good. Familarize yourself with the file. You will need to leave within the hour."

The Procurer focuses on the file and Grace, who has been listening to all of this, decides to move closer so she can read the name of the next victim. Before she can get there, The Disposer reaches into the black bag and removes the revolver. Swiftly, he places the gun barrel under the other man's chin and pulls the trigger. Blood sprays everywhere - some of it passing through Grace's astral form as she gasps in horror.

The Disposer retrieves the file, carries it to the fireplace and tosses it into the flames. He removes a note from his jacket pocket and places it in front of the dead body. Automatically, Grace reads the message: 'I AM A MONSTER. I CAN'T LIVE WITH WHAT I'VE DONE. GOD FORGIVE ME.' The gun goes into the dead man's hand.

The Disposer leaves the cabin and Grace is pulled back to her body, wishing she had seen the name of the next kidnap victim. The Disposer muses that he doesn't need the file. He has an excellent memory. He will have to handle the kidnapping himself, something he hasn't had to do in a long time, but he remembers how. Too bad for you...Nathan Friedman.

To Be Continued. Please Review.

(Thanks to Charles the Bold for suggesting that Luke wouldn't be able to resist experimenting with Grace's power.)